BottleRock Napa Was a Vibe: The Sets That Ruled the Weekend

This year, I decided to approach my BottleRock Napa coverage a little differently. Rather than listing every set I managed to catch over the three-day weekend, I’ve gathered the performances that stood out most to me. These are the moments that lingered, the ones that cut through the noise and stayed with me long after the music stopped. Some were planned. Others unfolded spontaneously, as if the festival had a mind of its own. Alongside these reflections, you’ll find a full photo gallery by the brilliant Chloe Catajan, who captured artists from across every stage and corner of the grounds. What follows is not a complete record, but a curated experience of the festival’s most unforgettable highlights.

This year’s lineup was also one of the most stylistically diverse BottleRock Napa has seen in a long time. Across the weekend, stages showcased everything from country and Americana to jam bands, reggae-inflected grooves, and Latin pop. It felt less like a singular genre event and more like a musical crossroads, where just about anyone could find something to hold onto. A friend of mine showed up with his parents and a group of their longtime family friends—three generations deep, all making a full weekend of it together. That seemed to be the mood throughout the festival grounds. As always, there was something restorative about being out in the warm, golden light of Napa Valley, soaking up music in the first real burst of summer.

Beyond the music, BottleRock Napa continues to blur the line between festival and lifestyle retreat. An entire spa village was tucked into one corner of the grounds, offering everything from facials and massages to hairstyling and permanent jewelry. Lululemon built a full roller disco rink where festival-goers glided around in the sunshine between sets. After dark, the scene shifted. A pop-up nightclub pulsed on-site, while the outdoor silent disco drew late-night dancers with glowing headphones and communal energy.

The luxe VIP Village was a standout, an oasis styled like a breezy, open-air lounge, complete with its own stage that felt like a beachfront nightclub in some far-flung resort town. It was one of my favorite places to land, a perfect contrast to the rush of the main stages, where the music felt just a little more intimate and the air seemed a little easier to breathe.

The 4 Non Blondes: Heavy, Weird, and Loud as Hell

Lit by the afternoon sun, 4 Non Blondes stepped onstage like they had something to prove. Out of every act at BottleRock, they were the one I was most curious about. A band that flamed out fast, remembered mostly for one song and for being a queer rock group before that even had a name.

Led by Linda Perry, the engine behind hits for Christina Aguilera, Pink, Gwen Stefani, and Adele, this was the first time I’d ever had the chance to see her live. I’ve heard her music in a thousand grocery stores and clubs, on car stereos and breakup playlists. But nothing prepared me for how loud, loose, and locked-in this band would be on stage.

They opened with a stripped-down medley of “What’s Up” then circled back to the full version mid-set. It landed exactly the way it should: defiant, massive, and completely unselfconscious. The kind of song that still makes people throw their heads back and howl. It has been overplayed for decades but in Perry’s hands it felt sharp again. The rest of the set didn’t coast. “Train,” “Strange Places,” and the freshly debuted “Push and Shove” sounded urgent, sometimes even punk. There was no leaning on nostalgia here. They came to tear through it.

Perry, in smeared eyeliner, a cartoonishly tall hat, and layers of spiritual jewelry, looked like she had wandered out of some haunted Laurel Canyon tarot den. Her voice has not aged. It has more gravel now, more force, and more control. Watching her stalk the stage, it was hard not to think of Keith Richards at his most witchy.

This was one of the most satisfying sets of the day. No pretense. No polish. Just raw, strange rock and roll played at full volume. It made most of the younger acts look like they were still warming up.

They only played for about 45 minutes but the point was made. If this was a test run for something bigger, I want to see them at the Fillmore next, with Perry behind a grand piano and no sun in sight.

The past was part of it, but this was about power in the present tense.

Bad Nerves: The Band That Set the White Claw Stage on Fire

Bad Nerves hit the White Claw Stage like they were trying to shake the ground loose. The Essex five-piece delivered one of the most explosive, high-velocity performances of the entire festival. I’ve seen a lot of bands come and go through BottleRock, but it has been a long time since one hit this hard on first impact.

They reminded me instantly of one of my favorite bands of all time, The Exploding Hearts. The Portland power pop group released just one album before tragedy struck in 2003, when three of the four members died in a car crash driving back from a show at Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco. Despite that loss, their music has lived on with a cult following that only grows. Until now, I hadn’t encountered a band that carried that same combination of hooks, chaos, and raw magnetism.

Bad Nerves’ set marked the final show in an incredibly successful run with San Francisco’s own Spiritual Cramp. The pairing was perfect. Spiritual Cramp’s high-flying, hard mod energy played like a fuse to Bad Nerves’ electric stage presence. Now they’re jumping straight into a tour with Weezer, and it feels like the momentum is just getting started.

Bobby Nerves stalked the stage with manic pacing, holding the microphone like a fencing foil, always one twitch away from a full-body eruption. The rest of the band was all motion and fury. Their guitar work felt frantic and precise, like it might spin out at any second but never did. Scissor kicks and split jumps exploded across the stage with reckless grace. There wasn’t a single moment of stillness.

Bobby’s presence reminded me of Dick Lucas from Subhumans and Tony Brandenburg from Adolescents, with a flash of young Jello Biafra in the eyes. It was all instinct, no gimmicks.

They ripped through “Dreaming,” “Baby Drummer,” and “Can’t Be Mine” with sharp precision and no wasted breath. The songs hit hard, fast, and left no room for second guessing. I had to run from Remi Wolf’s main stage set to catch them, and I still regret not seeing the full thing.

Bad Nerves were the best set of the weekend. Every year someone on the White Claw Stage pulls off something unforgettable. Two years ago it was KennyHoopla. Last year it was LaRussell. This year it was Bad Nerves, and they didn’t just meet the moment, they owned it.

E-40: Two Sets, One Icon

There are artists you wait a lifetime to see, and for Bay Area natives, E-40 is high on that list. His appearance at BottleRock Napa 2025 felt like a homegrown celebration, kicking off with a sun-soaked set on the festival’s Jam Cellars main stage.

The start was delayed. More than 20 minutes passed before he even hit the stage, with his DJ doing most of the heavy lifting early on. But once E-40 appeared, decked out in a vibrant Louis Vuitton silk shirt and diamond-dripping chains, the wait was forgotten. He launched into a tight medley of career-defining anthems like “Tell Me When to Go,” “Sprinkle Me,” and “Yay Area.” He also brought the crowd into familiar territory with covers of “Snap Yo’ Fingers” and “I Don’t F*ck with You,” tracks he helped make iconic through feature verses and cultural influence.

Being in the middle of a Bay-heavy crowd that knew every word made the set feel less like a music festival and more like a block party. For longtime fans, it was a full-circle moment to see a regional legend honored on a national stage.Later that afternoon, E-40 performed again in the VIP Village. The vibe shifted from full-throttle to something more intimate, almost like slipping into an outdoor after party. Low seating, breeze-catching tents, and standing-room-only crowds created a lounge-like energy. This time, he arrived right on cue, stepping out in a deep navy Chanel look scattered with celestial illustrations, looking completely at ease.

The performance was shorter but sharper, packed with true fans who rapped along to every line. His male backup dancers were impossible to ignore. Loud, choreographed, and sometimes hilariously over the top, they stole attention but never the spotlight. Between songs, E-40 dropped bits of his origin story, casually mentioning that he started playing bass and snare drum in the third grade. “I fucked with it heavy,” he said, like a man who never once doubted his path.

He repeated much of the earlier setlist but added a few extras, including the crowd favorite “Captain Save a Hoe.” At just around 30 minutes, the set felt quick but undeniable. It was a standout moment, not because it leaned on nostalgia, but because it proved how sharp and relevant E-40 remains.

BottleRock booked a legend. The Bay showed up for him. He returned the favor.

Green Day Tears Through a Two-Hour Career-Spanning Set with an Unlikely Guest

Green Day played for nearly two hours for BottleRock’s Friday’s closing set, starting in the daylight and ending under a sky lit with pyrotechnics. Their set made full use of a newly reconfigured stage featuring a compact runway that brought the band closer to the crowd than ever before, giving the performance an extra layer of immediacy.

They opened with a one-two punch of “American Idiot” and “Holiday,” and frontman Billie Joe Armstrong didn’t waste time getting political. He altered the opening lyrics of “American Idiot” to reflect the current climate, singing, “Don’t want to be an American idiot / I’m not part of a MAGA agenda.” The crowd roared its approval.

As part of a long-running tradition, the band brought a fan onstage early in the set to help sing “Know Your Enemy.” This time it was a woman in her twenties who took the mic with confidence, but unlike previous years, they didn’t hand her a guitar or let her keep it. Still, the energy never dipped. Just a few yards from the stage, tennis icon Serena Williams watched from the VIP section.

The setlist leaned into both early anthems and later hits, creating a steady rhythm that kept the crowd moving. “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” “Longview,” and “Welcome to Paradise” all showed up early in the set. A string of favorites rounded out the second half, including a shortened but powerful version of “21 Guns,” along with “Minority,” “Basket Case,” “When I Come Around,” and “Wake Me Up When September Ends.” Billie Joe briefly teased the crowd with a snippet of “Jack and Diane” by John Mellencamp before launching into the final stretch.

Toward the end, Armstrong picked up an acoustic guitar, Tre Cool flung glitter into the sky, and the band eased into “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life).” Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Flavor Flav appeared onstage and joined in. At that point, after a full day of sun, wine, and wall-to-wall sets, the crowd didn’t question it. Everyone just laughed, pulled out their phones, and went along for the ride.

It was a strange ending, but somehow perfect — a final burst of color and noise from a band that has always spoken for the outsiders, still playing their hearts out just a few miles from where it all began.

Ice Cube: Bringing It Back to West Coast Roots

At one point I struck up a conversation with a woman who asked me who I was most excited to see. Without hesitation, I said Ice Cube. She lit up and said, “Me too.” She and her husband were in from Vegas, visiting their daughter in college, and decided to check out the festival on a whim. It was a reminder of Cube’s surprising reach across generations, across genres, and across crowds who may not have grown up on West Coast hip hop but still light up when he steps onstage.

I had seen Cube before last spring at Cali Vibes Fest in Long Beach, a weekend known for its reggae base but stacked with hip hop. I somewhat knew what to expect, but this time I was in extra high spirits. That last set had started in the rain, in February. It was freezing, and the stage was too small for the size of the crowd. No matter how hyped I was, it was a tough show to endure. This time was different. The weather was perfect, and I was right up front. Right before me stood a hilarious giant statue of a hand throwing the Westside “W,” setting the tone before the first beat even dropped.

Cube kicked things off with “Check Yo’ Self” and “You Know How We Do It,” the kind of one-two punch that makes a crowd immediately lock in. From there, the set only gained momentum. He rolled through “Bop Gun (One Nation),” “Go to Church,” “Ghetto Bird,” and “Friday,” then hit a peak with back-to-back N.W.A staples “Fuck tha Police” and “Gangsta Gangsta.” When “You Can Do It” dropped, the whole front section turned into a bounce pit.

Cube looked fantastic. Healthy, focused, and polished in a low-profile, all-black outfit and fitted hat. He looked extraordinary for a man in his fifties, easily giving any younger rapper a run for their money with his minimalist style and old school swagger.

“Check Yo’ Self,” “Friday,” and closing out with “It Was a Good Day” made it feel like a dream set. That last song in particular was one I never thought I’d see live. That night, I finally did.

Jakob Nowell’s Fever Dream of a Solo Set

I was lucky enough to stumble into a last-minute, unlisted solo set from Jakob Nowell, the son of the late Bradley Nowell and current frontman filling in with Sublime. It wasn’t on the official schedule, and it felt like a small miracle to catch it.

The night before, his band Jakob’s Castle had played a tiny club gig in downtown Napa, which I missed. So seeing him in this unexpected, stripped-down acoustic set in the VIP lounge felt like fate. Just Jakob and his guitarist, playing selections from his solo album, including one of my personal favorites, “I Heard a Ghost.” That one hit especially hard live, carrying a quiet but piercing emotional weight.

He took his time between songs, talking to the crowd about how impromptu the performance was and how he was mainly there to play with his “dad’s band.” The way he said it, you’d think Sublime was just the house act at the local dive bar. His whole presence is difficult to pin down. He comes off as shy and bold at the same time, awkward but also strangely self-assured. You get the sense that he’s a natural performer who still spends a lot of time in his head. Maybe that’s part of what makes him compelling. He seems destined to remain a bit of an enigma, carrying the weight of both a legacy and a stigma.

The set unfolded like a fever dream. Between songs, he and his guitarist would lock eyes, maybe trade a few quiet words, then launch into whatever came next. It felt casual, like a porch jam session at sunset, intimate and instinctive.

Nowell played shirtless, as he often does, surrounded by a crowd of well-heeled VIPs. I couldn’t help but think how many of them might have judged his father harshly if they’d met him in life without knowing his story or seeing his full humanity; reacting only to how he looked, how he spoke, or where he came from.

There was a strange irony in that, a tension that hung just under the surface. Still, none of that took away from the performance. He did a great job. Honest, unfiltered, and entirely his own.

These six sets were the best of the best. The ones that left a mark, that lingered in the hours and days after. These were the performances I walked away from shaking my head in disbelief, rewatching blurry phone footage during quiet moments, texting my friends in all caps, and raving about to total strangers while waiting in line for tacos. Those sets. The kind you tell people they missed out on, the ones that become shorthand for why you go to festivals in the first place. From the cathartic roar of 4 Non Blondes to the whiplash brilliance of Bad Nerves, from E-40’s double-header flex to Jakob Nowell’s fever dream of a lounge set, from Ice Cube’s West Coast sermon to Green Day’s fireworks-streaked marathon—it was a run of performances that felt visceral, impressive, and at times, downright delicious. These are the memories that stick. The ones that make you want to come back.

Every year I return to BottleRock, I find myself appreciating it more. It’s a remarkably well-run festival, held together by the kind of behind-the-scenes precision that’s easy to overlook until you’ve spent time in less graceful environments. Everything is clean, organized, fully staffed, and thoughtfully laid out. Foot traffic flows smoothly. Signage makes sense. There are enough restrooms. It sounds basic, but these small details quietly shape your experience and help you decide whether or not you’ll want to come back.

Being in Napa doesn’t hurt either. The setting is beautiful, the air feels generous, and I want to acknowledge the privilege of being here. Not long ago, I couldn’t have imagined being able to attend something like this. I remember what it’s like to read these recaps and wonder what it really felt like to be there; not just focus on who played what song on what night, but whether it was worth it. Life is expensive. Time is precious. We work hard for what we have, and there never seems to be enough of it. So I try to notice the things that count, the parts that matter. And still, it always comes back to the music. How lucky I was to be knocked over by legacy giants like 4 Non Blondes, Ice Cube, and Green Day, while also catching that first spark of something new from Jakob Nowell or Bad Nerves. That’s why I do this. To remember, to share, and maybe help someone else find a band or a moment that lights something up inside. If you find something here that resonates, I hope you chase it down. I hope it becomes part of your own story.